


Did you hear your favorite song one last time?

by CronbachAlpha



Series: The Gaslight Series [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Songfic, Thor Is Not Stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CronbachAlpha/pseuds/CronbachAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint can't find closure after Coulson's death and Thor knows the right words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did you hear your favorite song one last time?

            Clint didn’t have time to grieve or think when he came out being brainwashed. He had to put it aside, not think about the people who died thanks to his actions. He shoved it into a dark corner of his mind and locked it up before engaging with Steve, Natasha, and Tony in combat.

            When he finally returned to the Helicarrier, he looked around to make sure all the agents he knew deeply were still there.

            Coulson wasn’t.

            That was all that mattered.

_And I wonder which song they're going to play when we go_   
_I hope it's something quiet, mannered, peaceful, and slow_   
_When we float out into the ether into the everlasting arms_   
_I hope we don't hear Marley's chains we forged in life_

            Natasha told him to not think about it, to not obsess over it, to not do that to himself after what he had been through. That he knew better.

           He told her, rather coldly and loudly, for her to tell what he could or couldn’t do or think. It was the first time in years that he found himself raising his voice, to hear the venom drip from each word.

           He was a good agent. He didn’t take things personally. That was part of the job. People died. They got replaced. Then they died. It was a vicious cycle but, after a while, Clint knew agents became used to it.

           But there was always that one, special someone who compromised you. He knew that. His brainwashing, the threat of Loki crushing his head in, taking him to someplace Natasha couldn’t follow…that was her trigger. That changed her. She stopped being an assassin and became a hero.

           For Clint, that was Coulson.

            And now he was gone.

  
_Because the chains I've been hearing now for most of my life  
And the chains I've been hearing for most of my life_

            Clint didn’t exactly have a happy life. His parents were killed in a car crash. He spent six years in an orphanage before joining a circus. His mentor helped train him with the bow before turning on him and leaving for dead. He continued to practice archery, his only outlet for his frustrations, and eventually left the circus to pursue the sport professionally.

            He caught SHIELD’s eye and they sent Coulson to recruit him.

            Clint knew he didn’t handle it well. He was worse than Stark was when pushed to join the organization, but Coulson’s patience and kindness made Clint reconsider the offer.

            When he joined the agency, he was volatile. He let his emotions control him and thought with his heart first instead of his head. He couldn’t keep track of how many times Coulson had to pay for his bail after drunken brawls in a bar. Most people would have given up on Clint, and maybe that what he wanted.

            Coulson refused to give up on him. He’d give him a stern warning, but that was it. No physical reprimanding, just a short speech and Clint knew the man was disappointed in him. That bothered him most, and Coulson knew it.

            After a while, Clint began to control his emotions and impulses. At first, it was to regain favor with his handler, but after a while, it made him feel better. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was in control of his life, no one else. Ever since, they were inseparable. Where Coulson went, Clint followed. Any order Coulson gave, Clint followed, and he never once challenged his orders. For the first time in his life, Clint felt like he had a father again.

            He was always thankful for that.

            And he never got the chance to tell Coulson that.

  
_Did you hear the '59 sound coming through on Grandmama's radio?_   
_Did you hear the rattling chains in the hospital walls?_   
_Did you hear the old gospel choir when they came to carry you over?_   
_Did you hear your favorite song one last time?_

           Clint snuck out to the gravesite by himself, staring at the sleek, black marble stone. As usual, SHIELD went all out when it came to their men.

            Most people found closure when the body was finally buried. Something about finally seeing it laid to rest brought a sense of comfort to them. It did for most of the agents.

            Not for Clint.

            The other Avengers found closure with Coulson’s death when they finally defeated Loki. They had avenged his death.

            Not Clint.

            Clint didn’t even know he died at that time.

  
_And I wonder were you scared when the metal hit the glass_   
_See I was playing a show down the road when your spirit left your body_   
_And they told me on the front lawn, I'm sorry I couldn't go_   
_But I still know the song and the words and the name and the reasons_

            He felt bitter, he knew that. The Avengers got to spend Coulson’s last moments with him. He finally got to meet the Captain, his idol. He finally saw his hard work recruiting the Avengers come to fruition. He spent his last moments with them and he died a hero.

            Clint wasn’t. Loki took over his brain and stole those moments from him.

            He wondered if Coulson worried about him. He wondered if he spoke to the others about him. If he did, was it fondly? Did he tell them about how much of a pain Clint used to be with a smile, the way he usually did? Or did he say nothing and bottle it up, hoping Clint was going to come back to them okay?

            Did he suffer when he was dying? Was it painful, or was it peaceful, like falling asleep?

            Worse, did he blame Clint for leading the assault?

            Even worse…did he blame Clint for his death?

  
_And I know because we were kids and we used to hang  
And I know because we were kids and we used to hang_

            He wanted to ask the team in the worst way. He needed to know the truth, but he knew he’d never know. They would try to sugarcoat it, try to make the loss easier to handle. Maybe they’d even lie to make him feel better. But he’d never know. They didn’t know what he was thinking in those last moments.

            Clint continued to stare down at the grave. He felt like he should say something, but what? I’m sorry? I miss you? What am I going to do now?

            Why can’t I go where you are?

            Instead, he remained silent.

  
_Did you hear the '59 sound coming through on Grandmama's radio?_   
_Did you hear the rattling chains in the hospital walls?_   
_Did you hear the old gospel choir when they came to carry you over?_   
_Did you hear your favorite song one last time?_

            “Clint.”

           He turned his head to Thor. He wasn’t aware the god had followed him.

           “Didn’t know you followed me,” Clint said, returning to look down at the grave. He heard Thor walk up behind him and place his large hands on Clint’s shoulder.

           “I was worried, Little Hawk,” Thor said, quietly. His pet name gave Clint some semblance of comfort.

            Thor kept him sane these days. He felt some guilt for Loki’s actions, particularly what he did to Clint. He felt he needed to make amends. Clint resisted at first, but the god’s gentle, disarming ways made him lower his guard and he let Thor in. Thor was the only one who understood his feelings these days, particularly over his lack of closure. Some days, it made him laugh. Of all the people he found comfort in, it was the man whose brother screwed him up.

            The god remained quiet, just letting the warmth from his hands tell Clint he was there for him.

  
 _Young boys . . . young girls_  
Young boys . . . young girls  
 _Ain't supposed to die on a Saturday night_  
 _Ain't supposed to die on a Saturday_  
 _Well they ain't supposed to die on a Saturday night_  
 _Ain't supposed to die on a Saturday night_

           “…You weren’t supposed to leave my life,” Clint finally said, voice stoic, his throat tight.  

           “Little Hawk?” Thor asked, quietly.

           “He wasn’t…he wasn’t supposed to go someplace where I couldn’t watch his back,” Clint said, trying to control the soreness in his throat as it became tighter. “Goddamn idiot…what was he doing?”

           “He died a hero’s death,” Thor said, comfortingly. “He died doing what he knew was right. Do not blame yourself, Little Hawk. You are not at fault.”

           Sometimes, Clint forgot Thor could be so wise, so soothing. It was so different from his normally child-like, innocent ways.

           He remained silent, feeling the warmth from Thor’s hands.

           “Of all the things my Brother has done, I regret being unable to stop his death. The pain you feel is one I cannot take away. I do not like seeing you hurting, Little Hawk,” Thor sighed, his voice a soft murmur. “He does not blame you for what happened. Before you argue, I am aware I do not know what he thought in those last moments, but the Son of Coul could never blame you for what happened that day. He takes comfort knowing you have returned to us. He can rest easy.”

           Clint sighed, softly. His throat hurt and he felt something prick at his eyes.

           “I would like to think that the Son of Coul is happy where he is, knowing that you have someone to watch over you once more. Knowing his ways, I know that he would make sure you would not be left alone.”

            As always, Thor knew the right words to say.

  
_Did you hear the '59 sound coming through on Grandmama's radio?_   
_Did you hear the rattling chains in the hospital walls?_   
_Did you hear the old gospel choir when they came to carry you over?_   
_Did you hear your favorite song one last time?_

            Clint was silent, taking in Thor’s words, staring down at the grave. His throat hurt and burned; his eyes felt watery as he fought to keep control.

            He couldn’t hide it from Thor the way he could with others.

           He felt Thor’s hands move from his shoulders to cover his eyes, gently, pushing against him in a firm embrace, kissing the back of his head, gently.

           “It is alright, Little Hawk. No one will know. Not even I.”

           It was then that Clint finally let his walls down, completely. He felt Thor pull him closer as he finally grieved, letting the tears finally fall. The god said nothing, just holding Clint in his semi-embrace, kissing the back of his head in comfort.

           Reminding him that, at the end of the day, he was going to be there.

           Clint felt lighter at that thought.

  
_Young boys . . . young girls  
Young boys . . . young girls_

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics to "The '59 Sound" belong to Brian Fallon and The Gaslight Anthem.
> 
> I don't know what Clint's background is in the Marvel Movie-Verse, so I'm going to loosely use his comic back story for this. 
> 
> This gave me so much feels. Tried to *not* cry writing this. Wasn't easy.
> 
> I listened to both the album and Fallon's acoustic versions of this song writing this. Clint's line towards the end of the story came from the acoustic version.  
> Song can be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G1lq40tR72Q  
> The acoustic is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8YDJkPSTXQ


End file.
